The Heart Of the Matter
by Trekkieb
Summary: Epilogue to the episode "Buried Alive."


**Disclaimer:** Seven Days and everybody therein belongs to Crowe Entertainment and Paramount. I am using the show and its characters without authorization, but it's all in good fun. :)   
**Rating:** PG   
**Author's Notes:** This is an epilogue to the episode "Buried Alive." Thanks go to Ruth for looking this over for me. Any mistakes are mine. Feedback is most excellent. :-)   


  


The Heart Of The Matter   
**By [Trekkieb][1]**

  
  


Donovan slowed his pace as he approached Frank's quarters. He couldn't rationalize the feeling, but he was a little hesitant to go talk to his friend. It was important, though, after the recent events.

When the Sphere had gone missing a few days ago -- and Frank with it -- Donovan had been in a state of near panic. Then, when they had finally heard his voice over the speakerphone the relief had been immense. They had eventually retrieved him from that damned underground mine…but there had still been lingering worry on Donovan's part.

Parker seemed to be recovering nicely, milking his injuries for all they were worth in regards to Olga and Talmadge. But he had been a little quieter than usual, and Donovan was concerned, because he thought he knew what was going on in Frank's head.

He reached Parker's door and knocked twice.

"It's open," came from inside.

He was sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, his injured leg resting upon a pillow. An open bottle of beer was in one hand, and the latest issue of TV Guide in the other.

Frank looked up and gave a crooked grin. "Hey, Donovan."

"Hey, yourself." Donovan wandered into the room. The television was on: basketball. The announcer was speaking, commenting on a fumbled three point shot.

He studied Frank, who had returned to perusing the TV Guide. "Got any more of those?" he asked, nodding at the beer.

"Uh huh. Help yourself."

Donovan pulled a bottle from the miniature refrigerator Frank kept in his room. He unscrewed the cap, sat down in a chair, and took a long pull of the cold liquid. "Who's winning?" He motioned towards the television with his drink.

Frank barely glanced up as he said, "Hell if I know. Last time I looked, they were both losing miserably."

One of Donovan's eyebrows crept up a tad.

"Hey," Frank said. "Check this out, there's a Xena: Warrior Princess marathon coming on. 'Til midnight." He grabbed the remote control and flipped the channel.

"Xena," Donovan repeated dryly, amused. "Quality television, huh?"

"Give it a chance, my friend," was the chuckled reply.

They fell into silence, Frank watching the screen and Donovan watching Frank, each sipping their own beer.

Finally, Frank turned a puzzled look on Donovan. "What? Have I got something on my face?"

Donovan shook his head and grinned. "You mean besides what's already there?"

Frank playfully tossed the TV Guide in his direction. It landed on the floor with a flutter of pages. "Ha ha."

Donovan stalled by taking another draught, using the few seconds to organize his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to say. "How are you doing?" he asked, then mentally shook his head. That wasn't what he'd planned on saying -– the words sounded so cliché -– but it slipped by without his tongue consulting his brain first.

Parker nodded slowly as if that was what he'd expected Donovan to say all along. "Fine. I'm doing fine."

Donovan peered closely at his friend, past the I'm-telling-the-truth look and seemingly sincere smile. As long as he'd known Frank, it was still sometimes hard for Donovan to tell when he was being less than honest.

"You're sure?" he asked, somewhat doubtfully. When Frank rolled his eyes heavenwards he added, "I just thought you might want to talk."

"About what?" Another sip of beer.

Donovan shrugged. "About what happened" _About the nightmares_, he wanted to add but didn't.

But Frank just shrugged right back. "Donovan, I'm telling you, I am fine. It's no big deal. I'm here, alive. The Sphere is in one piece. What's to talk about?"

Donovan nodded. "Okay, no problem," he said. He stood. "I've got to get going. Thanks for the beer." He felt Frank's gaze on his back as he left.

Outside Frank's room, Donovan stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. If Frank really didn't want to talk, then he couldn't make him. But he knew that Parker wasn't telling the truth. He knew about the nightmares. Well, he didn't know for sure, but he suspected.

Donovan had been the one to pull Frank out of the hotbox where he'd been kept for all those days. He'd stayed with Frank for a while at the military hospital, offering what comfort he could. He'd heard the horrible dreams that invaded his friend's sleep.

For a while after that, a look had remained in Frank's eyes. One of quiet desperation…and almost imperceptible fear. And since they'd retrieved him from the mineshaft, Donovan had seen a similar look in those very same hazel eyes.

But Frank wouldn't talk. Not now, anyway. He needed time. Donovan would let him have it. He would be there for his friend any way he could, just like he had been there for him before.

So, doing the only thing he could at the moment, what Frank wanted, Donovan dropped his hand from his neck and walked away.

_~finis~_   


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